


Nothingness Inside

by akamine_chan



Category: Durham County
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much she rages against it, the truth of her gender is inescapable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothingness Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Villainny's [Sex is not the Enemy Thingathon](http://villainny.livejournal.com/1626605.html). Lovely beta work by Lucifuge5, Spuffyduds and Thursdaynext_27. Thanks, ladies!
> 
> Warning for sexism issues, in the sense that Sadie is a woman and often times the way society treats women pisses her off. Like Osaraba, I feel like I failed on one level - _Sex is not the Enemy_ is about sex positivity, and this story isn't. *sigh*
> 
> Prompt picture is [here](http://thegalaxyisgay.tumblr.com/post/1472111801).

Sadie looks at herself in the mirror, touches the cool glass of her reflection.

Pale skin, red hair, and her father's bright blue eyes. She strips off her sweater and her plain white bra, and slowly meets her own gaze.

The bright fluorescent light is brutal, reflecting off the pale walls. It strips away every shadow, shows every flaw, every imperfection. There's no place to hide from who she is, _what_ she is.

A woman.

She slides her hands, cold as ice, up and up, to tenderly cup her breasts. Her nipples harden but there’s no pleasure; she feels nothing but the chill.

She hates the fact that these insignificant handfuls of flesh trap her in the cage of her own body. They define her, weigh her down and there's no way to break free of that.

No matter how much she rages against it, the truth of her gender is inescapable. When someone meets her for the first time, they don't see her determination or her temper or her stubbornness. They see her breasts, her _boobs_ , her fucking _tits_ , she gets labeled neatly and shoved into a box that says weak, afraid, shallow, _bitch_ , _cunt_ and it makes her want to scream and scream and _scream_ at the fucking unfairness of it all.

Sometimes she can remember how she felt when Ray first touched her breasts, when they were both too young to know better, the look of wonder on his face, the way a line of heat curled between her legs when he kissed them. But these days, those memories get lost in the rage that threatens to swallow her whole.

Opening the cabinet, she pulls out a roll of wide elastic bandage that her father had used once, when he'd broken his ribs. The doctors had wrapped the bandage tightly, wound it around and around his chest, obscuring the dark smudges of bruises that had echoed the darkness in his eyes. She has a flash of memory at the way her mother had looked, worry chasing fear across her face before her mouth had tightened in anger.

Sadie unrolls the bandage a little and wraps it around her chest, pulling tight and flattening her breasts. It's an awkward process; at one point her hair gets tangled in what she's doing and she ends up yanking hard on it, tears stinging her eyes as she curses. The bandage slips and she lets go and the whole mess unravels. Pressing her lips together, she tries again, striving for the patience which doesn't come naturally to her. She’s too much like her dad—rough and blindingly fast to anger.

Struggling to keep the bandage taut, Sadie binds her breasts flat. It's hard to breathe, the bandage digs into her flesh and hurts. When she turns sideways, though, there's nothing there, just the flat planes of her chest.

She puts her sweater back on and smooths her hands down, pleased with the aesthetics of her new form.

Closing her eyes to _feel_ the difference, she transfers her weight from foot to foot, notices the change in balance, the rise of her center of gravity. She'd have to change the way she walks, the way she moves. With a little practice, she could do it, could pull it off. She has a good eye for that kind of thing.

History was full of women who disguised themselves as boys, who refused to accept their labels. She could be like them.

Sadie opens her eyes and tries to see past the girl. She pulls her hair back, wraps it around her hand, trying to imagine herself with short, short hair. More boyish, yes, androgynous like the too-skinny models that are all the rage on the covers of the fashion magazines. But still inescapably a girl.

A flat chest and short hair will never change that, no matter how much she wishes otherwise. She wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to punch her reflection until it shatters into a million broken pieces.

She wonders if her father ever wished for a son.

-fin-


End file.
